Friday, December 24, 2010

Merry Christmas

At the church's 2010 Christmas Eve service, I shared the following poem as a reflection on Jesus' birth. Writing and sharing it was a sweet experience that I will always treasure. I hope you may be blessed by it too.

Mary Pondering

Jesus, Jesus,
My baby, soft and warm,
Dear Joseph sees my eyes in Him,
I see my mama's brows,
My papa's nose and chin,
My brother's long and sturdy fingers
In His small and dimpled hands.
I wonder, Father God,
How will I see You in Him?

How will this baby born to me
Become a king?
How will He reign forever,
What can that mean?
The Angel said He is your Son,
The Holy One;
Surely He will be good in every way,
How then will He bring me sadness,
A sword to "pierce my soul"
As Simeon said?
How can a lowly maid like me
Rear God's Son, so great a king?
Oh, please, don't take Him away from me.
How shall I sleep; how shall I rest?
I love my Son,
Your Son,
My Lord,
This little one,
My baby, soft and warm.

How will a Jewish king
Mean joy and peace, good will to all?
That's what the shepherds say the angels sang.
They said a host of angels sang.
They visited my little one the very night He came.
They knew just where we'd be,
They found us easily.
In the stable
There was room for them
And no one to bar their coming in.
They spread wide the word,
My little Jesus is the Christ, a king.
Now many people come to see.
They come and go.
We welcome them;
He is their king,
My baby, soft and warm.

Some wise men came,
These wealthy men, richly robed,
From far away,
To our humble house today.
They said a star had led their way.
They offered gifts of splendor,
Their like I'd never seen,
Surely gifts chosen for a king.
They worshiped Him
On bended knees,
My little one,
My Jesus,
My Lord,
Your Son.

Father God, we worship only You,
And here you brought these foreigners of means
To worship at our little Jesus' feet.

Lowly shepherds, wealthy foreigners,
All men worshiping a Savior King,
All full of joy and peace, good will You send.

Jesus, Jesus,
My baby, soft and warm,
Joseph sees my eyes in Yours,
I see my Papa's nose and chin,
I see, I see Your Father, God,
I see You have His...identity.
They worship Him,
They worship You,
You are His only Son,
His little Holy One.

Father God,
We will trust,
We will sleep,
We will rest,
We will keep
In You.

Oh, thank You, Father God.

Years ago, my mother gave each of her three daughters an ornament of Mary and Jesus. We have enjoyed them. I like to put ornaments on the tree that keep the true meaning of Christmas ever before us.

About Me

I am a forty-something wife and mother living in the American Midwest. My interests include reading, writing, drawing, dancing, history, entertaining, and home-keeping. I'm learning to sew a little, too.
With so much to interest, I have difficulty settling long into anything, but my attention span does allow me enough time to write poems.
Way back when I was in college, I read The Temple by George Herbert and was greatly influenced by his poems and also by a few lines by Izaak Walton from his Life of Mr. George Herbert, which read, "Why are not sonnets made of Thee, and lays/ Upon Thine altar burnt?"
While not all the poems I write are about God (some of them are), they all come from this wonderful life He has given me and feel to me like gifts from Him. Of course, I cannot hope to rival or even approach the beauty of Mr. Herbert's work. Nevertheless, I offer what I do have, a few more lays, however homely, for His altar.